Paint My Love
by KC Evans
Summary: AU. Aoshi was willing to do almost anything to maintain his grades, even if it meant getting a tutor for art class. But why did it have to be Makimachi Misao?


_Rurouni Kenshin is copyrighted to its respective owners, of which I am not one._

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Warning: AU.

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Shinomori Aoshi would never admit out loud that he wasn't the best in his Creative Arts class – a first for him, overachiever that he was – but neither was he failing it. So he was rather shocked … no, _appalled_ that as class was dismissed one day, the professor called out over the din of the room, "Mr. Shinomori, I'd like to see you before you leave, please." 

Instantly, all noise ceased and every head swiveled in his direction. Hiding the confusion he felt behind his usual controlled mask, Aoshi merely nodded and resumed packing his art supplies in his bag. He waited patiently as his classmates went back to shoving their chairs in or tossing their pencils in cases even though they all suddenly seemed to be moving slower than usual. Apparently they were curious as to why he was being called up to see the professor.

To help his classmates along, Aoshi sent them a frigid glare from which they understood that their presence was not welcome. Finally, the last of the stragglers who were brave enough to withstand his scowl left the room and he approached the desk at the front. The teacher, Tsukioka Tsunan, was still behind the desk busy packing away his own supplies when he glanced up at Aoshi.

"Mr. Shinomori," he said easily. "I wanted to speak with you about the last project you turned in." He paused and studied the expressionless face for a moment. "Have a seat while I explain why I've called you up here." He waited until Aoshi took a seat in the front of the row and perched himself at the edge of his desk. "You are an architect major in your last semester of graduate school, correct?"

Aoshi nodded shortly, wondering what that had to do with his project.

"I've seen some of your plans that were posted on the bulletin board. Superb flow of design," Tsukioka said.

Apparently he was waiting for a response so Aoshi said, "Thank you."

Tsukioka folded his arms across his chest, still studying his student's face. "I know you have to take this class in order to graduate, Mr. Shinomori, and I know you've waited until the last minute to do so. Why is that?"

Aoshi blinked once, wondering, yet again, what this had to do with his project. "I decided to concentrate on classes pertaining to my major first," he said.

"Ahh. Well, that makes sense. You have a gift for order and symmetry and it certainly shows through your projects." Tsukioka finally stood and walked back to his bag, pulling out a sketchbook which Aoshi recognized as the one he turned in a week ago. "However, this class is called Creative Arts for a reason. It is actually a lower level class designed to give students an opportunity to explore what they consider art. It also helps students find their own creative impulses in whatever media they choose to work with."

Tsukioka flipped to the first page of the sketchbook and showed it to Aoshi. "Your technique in this drawing is flawless and I'm hard-pressed to see that you didn't use a ruler when making your lines. However, there is one thing wrong with this sketch."

When the professor paused, Aoshi lifted a brow. "And that would be ..?"

"It lacks depth. There is no life in this picture."

Aoshi stared at him. "It is a charcoal sketch of a cathedral."

"I see that," Tsukioka said dryly. "However, it's flat. Two-dimensional. When you look at this cathedral in the city, do you see it in this way? Where is the majesty, the awe, the pervading peace that emanates from such a building? Where is the echo of the voices that have cried in its very pulpit, the chorus of joy at celebrations? That is the meaning of art, Mr. Shinomori." Tsukioka set the sketchbook down and leaned over to look down at Aoshi. "I can see you're thinking that your crazy professor has finally inhaled turpentine one too many times, but I assure you that it is possible to see these things in a simple sketch."

"You are going to fail me on this project because I did not somehow project a 'Hallelujah' from this drawing?" Aoshi asked, narrowing his eyes

Tsukioka shook his head. "No, I'll give you a C for this project for the effort you put into it. I know creative art isn't your forte, Mr. Shinomori, but I also know you can do better. That's why I thought it would be a good idea if I paired you with my most gifted student. She should be able to show you exactly what art is."

In other words, a tutor. Aoshi didn't know whether to scoff at the thought or be infuriated by the fact that his professor thought he needed help. In creative art, no less! Wasn't the point of this class to show what _he_ thought was creative in art?

Unfortunately, he couldn't say those things to his teacher. And he really couldn't afford an average grade in the class, either. It would bring his grades down and might even revoke his internship at the extremely competitive Architectural and Design Company. Aoshi knew all too well there were plenty of students just waiting for him to falter so they could take his place.

Lips thinning at that thought, Aoshi slowly nodded to his professor. "Very well. Is that all?"

Tsukioka broke into a grin and nodded his head. "That was all. You can meet her in Studio B tomorrow afternoon around four. Be prepared, Aoshi! I guarantee you won't walk out of that room without being changed."

* * *

His teacher had been right about one thing; he was definitely going to be changed, though perhaps not for the better. Aoshi strode into Studio B at the appointed time and froze in his tracks. 

No. Way.

Seated on a stool in the middle of the room was a petite young woman with a long plait of glossy black hair. She was covered in a paint-splattered smock that was carelessly buttoned in the back, allowing Aoshi a glimpse of a sky blue t-shirt underneath it. She was using a brush on a medium sized canvas, her movements unhurried with bold strokes. She had obviously just begun because the canvas was still mostly clean and white.

Aoshi couldn't believe it. It was his stalker from his years at the undergraduate school.

How could this be? Could Professor Tsukioka somehow have found out what happened years ago and concocted this plan to torture him?

Even as the thought crossed his mind, Aoshi knew he was being ridiculous. Professors didn't care about their students' love lives, least of all someone whom they only saw once a week. More likely, it was just a huge coincidence.

But why did his new tutor have to be Makimachi Misao?

Aoshi suppressed a shudder as he recalled being stalked for nearly all four years of his undergraduate years. Every time he had so much as breathed, Misao was there, offering to help him. She had somehow managed to arrange her schedule to be in the same class as him or at least a class that was nearby so she could see him. Even their dormitories were next to one another!

It was eerie to be watched every moment of the day, to have someone hang on his every word (or non-word as it came to Aoshi) and to be subjected to such persistent adoration. The entire campus had found out about Misao's obsession quickly enough and they were both teased relentlessly.

Aoshi hadn't appreciated the notoriety one bit. Finally, just a few months shy of graduation four years later, and in a fit of rare temper, he had actually yelled at Misao to stop obsessing over him. In his defense, Aoshi had had a bad day from his best friends almost dying by the hands of a fellow classmate a few days before and having nearly failed a test he was sure he aced. She had been more tenacious than usual, asking him repeatedly if he wanted to study together later that night.

Still, Aoshi had been ashamed at how his temper had snapped without warning and how he had tore into a young woman so brutally that he had brought tears to her eyes. Misao had run away and from then on, left him alone.

It wasn't his finest moment.

Aoshi had debated between apologizing to her or letting it go; the next time Misao had seen him, she ignored him entirely and he found he lacked the courage to even approach her. While it was nice to have that peace and quiet he had known before he met Misao, Aoshi slowly realized that he had gotten used to her chatter as she walked him to and from class. In the ensuing days, he found he was even looking around for her, slightly perturbed that he wasn't tripping over her feet like usual. Had he been honest with himself, Aoshi probably would have even admitted that he missed her cheerful and caring personality. He didn't dislike Misao; it was just that she was so _focused_ on him that made it a little disconcerting.

But he had been a complete jerk taking his anger out on an innocent girl. His pride and guilt had stopped him from ever apologizing to her. And it had taken Aoshi a long time to get used to the quiet again; there were still times when he remembered her faint laughter haunting his memories.

Now, here they were, four years after that fateful incident. Aoshi wondered why she had accepted the tutoring assignment; no doubt Professor Tsukioka would have told her who the student was. But perhaps she had been forced into this situation as he had been. Or perhaps she saw the chance to make his life miserable in retaliation of his bastardly behavior.

Aoshi waited for a few minutes to be acknowledged, watching Misao wield the brush with complete confidence. There was no hesitation in her strokes as a growing picture started to form under the colorful streaks of paint. Another few touches and he realized she was painting the scene around the sundial in the middle of campus. Her memory proved to be frightfully accurate as she included the three inch crack on the face of the sundial, a spider's web at the center knob, and the small clump of weeds that grew out where the cement was broken on the ground.

It was now clear why Professor Tsukioka considered Misao his best student. Aoshi could only watch, awed, as the picture jumped out at him until he thought he was literally right next to the sundial.

Suddenly, Misao stopped moving her brush and frowned at the canvas. She groaned and scribbled all over the painting so the colors mixed and the picture was ruined. "No, no, no, that was horrible!"

"It is?"

Misao twisted in her stool so quickly she almost fell off the seat, apparently surprised to find someone in the room with her. Aoshi had surprised himself as well with that spontaneous question. He hesitated for a moment before continuing, walking closer to her.

"The picture was absolutely flawless. You included every detail around the scene and did so with masterful strokes. I thought it was quite good, not horrible."

Misao pursed her lips and glanced at the ruined canvas before shaking her head. "Maybe in terms of design it was good but if you looked at it, it just looked like a painting."

Aoshi stopped a few feet away from her, frowning in confusion. "Isn't that what it's supposed to be?"

She groaned and started to rinse off her brush in the cup of water sitting next to her palette. "Yes, but it's not supposed to be. It's supposed to be a scene captured on canvas but not. It's … Argh, it's hard to explain." Finishing with her brush, she wiped the splatters of colored water on her smock absently before taking off the protective cloth and draping it on the stool. "Anyway, I'm sure you're not interested in hearing about that. It's good to see you again, Aoshi."

Aoshi watched her carefully, looking for any sign of hidden resentment or anger in her wide cerulean eyes or any bitterness in her light tone. He wouldn't be surprised if she harbored ill will towards him even after all this time. After all, he had been much too much of a coward to even apologize.

But searching her eyes carefully, he was puzzled to hear nothing but warmth in her voice. But how could that be? Could she have forgotten his harsh words or her obsession with him? Perhaps she had merely chalked it up to a school girl's crush.

It should have relieved him, perhaps eased his guilt a little. But for some reason, Aoshi didn't like the idea that she could have so easily forgotten him one bit.

So slowly, he said, "Hello, Misao. I assume you were the tutor Professor Tsukioka assigned to me?"

Misao seemed amused. "I wouldn't call it 'tutoring', Aoshi. He just thought it would be a good idea for me to take a look at your progress during the next project and maybe help you with the more creative aspect of it. It's supposed to be a landscape, right?"

Aoshi nodded. He had already started sketching a design which was actually a view from his dorm room. It overlooked the wooded area of school where the wildlife usually retreated when disturbed by the students. He had always enjoyed the serenity surrounding the forest which was in stark contrast to the loud campus life.

"Excellent. I assume you've already started on it so let me see it." Misao took the canvas down from the easel and walked it over to the corner where other discarded art supplies were carelessly tossed aside. Aoshi wasn't certain but he thought she might have muttered, "Good riddance to this," as she all but threw it down carelessly.

He still thought the painting was well done. But perhaps that was why he received a C in the last project and why he now had to have a tutor to help him. With a soft sigh, he set his bag down and pulled out his sketch pad, flipping it open to the right page. Once he found his initial draft, he passed the tablet to Misao.

She took it and studied the drawing for a long while, her eyes scanning the picture so long Aoshi began to wonder if the pencil marks were going to shrivel up in the scrutiny. Was there something wrong with it that Misao had to stare for so long?

Finally, she looked up and smiled at him. "Your sketch is very nice. But there are a couple of things wrong with it. Come to the table and I'll show you where you can improve the drawing." Turning, Misao headed over to a work table and set the pad down on it. She reached for a stubby pencil and waited until Aoshi joined her to start outlining several things. "First, your drawing is … well, I don't know how else to say it except that it's too perfect."

Aoshi raised a brow at her. "Too perfect?" he repeated skeptically. How could a drawing be too perfect?

Misao nodded earnestly. "You think of landscapes as something beautiful and gentle. But in reality, it's a reflection of what we see in nature. And nature is full of imperfections, even if they're so slight that you may not notice them at first. For instance, your moss on this tree looks moss-like but see how its edges are more symmetrical than not? In nature, moss spreads out where it can grow the best, which means that it'll grow irregularly." She flashed Aoshi a grin. "You architecture types may think asymmetry isn't logical most of the time, but I assure you, it's everywhere in nature." Misao erased several lines and did a rough outline of the moss. "There, you see how much more it looks like a tree because you changed the moss? It's details like that that make the picture truly come alive to a person."

Aoshi studied the new sketch. It actually did look better that way. "I see," he said slowly.

"And here, where you see the treetops? It's too even: one high, one low, one in between and then it repeats. Depending on the type of trees and where it's placed, you'll find that there is no set pattern to how high it can grow." Her hand moving rapidly, Misao drew in ragged lines across the top of the sketch pad.

He stared at the sketch as it slowly transformed into the scenery outside his window under Misao's confident hand. "So my observation of the landscape was flawed," Aoshi said at last.

Glancing up from the picture, Misao quirked a brow. "Well … it's more complicated than just memorizing the way things look. When you see the actual forest itself, how do you feel?"

Aoshi blinked and looked down at his rough sketch. How did he feel? Well, he did choose the forest because he felt most comfortable with it. "I feel … calm."

She gestured at the drawing. "And when you look at this, do you feel that same calm?"

"No."

"Then there's something else missing." Misao set her pencil down and looked at him steadily. "You've got the concept of technical art down, it seems, but the creative aspect is underdeveloped. What might help you is to contemplate the subject for a while. Look at the forest and study how it moves and breathes and lives. That can give you an idea of what you're missing."

Aoshi looked at his sketch and thought back to Misao's painting she had just tossed. "I felt as though I was really next to the sundial you were painting before I came in. Why did you throw it away?"

Misao shrugged. "It's not that big of a deal. I just wasn't feeling anything towards it. If there's no emotion built in it then there's no point in continuing it."

He wasn't sure if that was the artsy way of bsing but Aoshi didn't think what she said made any sense at all. He watched her for a long moment before asking her the question that was really bothering him. "Misao, why did you agree to tutor me?"

Misao got up from her seat, looking at everywhere but him. "Hmm? Because Professor Tsukioka asked me to, of course." She busied herself with cleaning up the remaining art supplies scattered on the tables.

Aoshi frowned at the evasive answer and persisted in questioning her. "Is that the only reason?"

"What other reason would I have?" she said off-handedly, flashing him the briefest of glances.

He stood up, feeling mildly irritated at her vague answers. "Perhaps if you told me, we will both know."

Apparently, his snippy tone struck a nerve somewhere. Misao spun around, cerulean eyes sparking with fury. "What else do you want me to say? That I'm still madly in love with you and took this assignment to stalk you again? Well you can rest assured, Shinomori Aoshi, that that is not the case! I already have a boyfriend and I wouldn't touch you with a fifty-foot pole even if my life depended on it!"

The sudden outburst caused tense silence to fall upon them as they stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Misao sighed and looked away. "I'm … sorry. I didn't mean to be so rude. It's been a long day for me so it's probably a good idea that I go home."

Aoshi had to force himself to speak, still stunned at the passionate display of anger that erupted from such a petite woman. "Of course. I hope you're not feeling too poorly."

"Nothing a cup of tea and a bubble bath can't cure," she said wearily. "You should work on your sketch some more. We can meet up again later to discuss what you've done."

"Aa." Aoshi watched as Misao packed her supplies up and head out the door without looking back at him. He sat alone in the room for a long while, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions tugging at him. In the end, he wasn't sure whether or not he was relieved that Misao was no longer attracted to him – or disappointed by it.

* * *

The phone rang just as Aoshi was finishing the reading for next week's Advanced Structural Planning class. He blinked and stared at his cellular for a long moment. Very few people had his number and they rarely called him. In fact, he always wondered why he had a phone in the first place. If people needed him, he was either in class or his dorm room studying. 

Picking up the phone, Aoshi frowned at the unknown number displayed on his caller id. Contemplating just ignoring the call and wondering if it was something important, he finally flipped the phone open and pressed the 'talk' button. "Shinomori," he said curtly.

"Aoshi, you sound like you need a break from all those boring text books," a voice said cheerfully into his ear. "Why don't we go on an outing?"

The voice was distinctly familiar and Aoshi's mind fell into a panic. Was that Misao? How had she gotten his cell phone number? And why was she calling him? Was she asking him out? His heart began pounding in fear and uncertainty, two very unwelcome emotions. "Misao?" he asked cautiously.

"Yep, it's me. I'll meet you outside your dorm in three minutes, all right? And don't forget to bring your sketchbook!" And before he could say anything else, she hung up.

Aoshi stared at his phone blankly. The calm and peace he achieved through studying was thoroughly disrupted by a single call. Nerves and butterflies and who knew what else was fluttering in his stomach and bloodstream. He disliked the unsettled feeling; it made him feel out of control.

With a sigh, he glanced at the neglected sketchbook lying on the farthest corner of his desk. Aoshi had to admit he had been avoiding working on the project even though he knew he should; it was due soon. But art made him think of Misao and how badly they had parted ways a few days ago.

Except she sounded perfectly fine over the phone. Aoshi wondered if Misao was one of those people who forgave and forgot easily. It would explain why she didn't even mention his inexcusable behavior from four years ago.

Well, there was only one way to find out. Driven by curiosity as much as the desire to see if Misao was really all right, Aoshi slipped the phone in his pocket, grabbed his keys, sketchbook, and pencil case, and headed out of his room.

As promised, Misao was waiting for him next to the front door of the dormitory, her foot tapping on the ground unconsciously. "You're late," she accused him good-naturedly.

"I live on the fifth floor. It takes longer than three minutes to exit the building," Aoshi pointed out.

Misao made a face at him. "That was a joke. Come on, let's go." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and tramped over to the side of the building.

Blinking as she disappeared around the corner, Aoshi stared after her until he shook himself enough to finally catch up with her. "Where are we going?" he asked, clutching his sketchpad under one arm.

"To experience nature firsthand, of course. Do you still meditate?"

It was odd to think that Misao knew his habits so well. Of course, she had spent the better part of their undergraduate years tagging after him so it wasn't a complete surprise. Still, Aoshi wondered just how much information she remembered about him; after all, four years had passed. "Of course."

"Good."

And that was all. There were no other explanations or questions. Aoshi stared down at the petite woman as she marched them towards the edge of the forest overlooking his dorm window. Unerringly, she found a trail leading into the woods and followed it through, glancing back only once.

"Come on, Shinomori, you're lagging behind!"

Aoshi, bemused at Misao's sudden militaristic demeanor, lengthened his stride to catch up with her. Despite his reservations as to exactly what she was planning, he realized he was also curious to see what was going to happen next.

As if no stranger to the forest, Misao led the way down the path. Aoshi had never walked through the woods before even though he only lived fifty feet away. Because of his tall stature, he had to duck quite a few times to avoid the overhanging brambles that crept out onto the path, pushing aside branches and fighting through the overgrown thistles spread out on the ground. Misao, up ahead of him, seemed to glide through as if the plants parted ways for her. After a silent ten minute walk, she suddenly stopped and turned around. "This seems like a good a spot as any," she announced.

Aoshi halted next to her, brushing away a bee that had ventured too close. He looked around the small, shaded grove and noted nothing extraordinary about it except an enormous fallen tree trunk taking up nearly half the space. "Good spot for what?"

His companion cast him an exasperated look. "For meditation, of course!" She walked up to the tree trunk and hopped onto the broad expanse. "Voila, your seat is ready!"

Aoshi stood there and watched her lean back on her hands, tilting her head up to face the sunlight filtering through the thick foliage. Despite her shorts and t-shirt, Misao looked like a wood nymph basking in the atmosphere. The area hummed with the sound of insects and animals rustling about as they went on their business, ignoring the two intruders. Humidity hung in the air like a moist blanket, dampening their foreheads from the heat.

After a moment, Misao sat up and looked at Aoshi. "Well, what are you waiting for? Aren't you going to meditate?"

He raised a brow, not moving from his position. "What should I meditate on, exactly?"

She shrugged. "Whatever gets your creative juices flowing. The whole point of bringing you here is so you can commune with nature and become a part of it. That way, when you paint your landscape, you'll be able to make it more realistic because it's coming from a part of you."

Aoshi pondered that for a moment. He wasn't certain he really bought into the idea of soaking in your surroundings and become one with it, but it certainly couldn't hurt. He walked over to where Misao was and set his sketchpad on the trunk carefully before hoisting himself up on it. The bark was hard and crumbled under his hands but it wasn't too uncomfortable.

Misao grinned at Aoshi. "I know you think I'm nuts but just try it. At least you'll get in your meditating for the day, right?"

"Aa," he agreed. As best he could, Aoshi inched back so he could cross his legs. Straightening his body, he closed his eyes and searched for that elusive peace that usually evaded him.

Blue eyes softening for a moment, Misao studied the handsome, stern features of her companion. She had forgotten just how gorgeous he was, even with that forbidding, cold expression on his face. Sighing, she shook her head to clear it before copying his movements. She had tried meditating a few times when she had learned Aoshi was into it, but she had never gotten far. Now, years older and far more patient than her Jiya would have ever thought possible, Misao figured it wouldn't hurt for her to try it, either. It might even help her with her own creativity.

The next hour passed peacefully while they both sat quietly. Finally, Aoshi opened his eyes, feeling more refreshed than he could ever recall. Pleased with the results, even if he still didn't feel anymore inspired to paint the woods than he did before, he glanced at Misao. A rare small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he found Misao impossibly curled up into a little ball and fast asleep. He should have known she couldn't keep quiet for this long.

Deciding to let her rest, Aoshi glanced at his sketchpad. It wouldn't hurt to see if this meditating in the forest actually helped him in art. Pulling out his pencil case, he flipped it open and selected a fine point writing implement and reached for the pad. Once he found a fresh page, he began to sketch quietly.

Misao woke a half hour later with a slight moan and grumble. "I really need to get a new mattress," Aoshi thought he heard her mumble as she surfaced to consciousness. She stretched her arms out and yawned, swinging her legs around as if getting ready to get up … only to find air as she lost her balance.

Something caught her arm and prevented her fall as Misao panicked, flailing her limbs around as if she was drowning. "Aaaagh! Aaa—Aoshi?"

"You fell asleep on the tree," he informed her, righting her back on the trunk.

"Oh." Blinking the fog away from her brain, Misao looked around and remembered she had dragged Aoshi in here for a change of scenery. Blushing deeply at her silliness, she said meekly, "Sorry."

Aoshi shook his head. "There is no need to apologize. You were sleeping so soundly I didn't want to disturb you."

"Oh. Thanks." Trying to change the subject and avoid further embarrassment, she peered at his rough drawing. "It looks like you were busy, though. May I see it?"

He passed the sketchpad over without a word. Misao studied the crude picture of a massive tree with gnarled roots coiling around it, noting the painstaking and noticeable effort to keep it as unsymmetrical as possible. She hid a smile; at least he was trying.

"Well? Is there some improvement?"

Misao passed the pad back to him. "There's always improvement when one draws and keeps drawing. It definitely doesn't look sterile and too perfect."

Aoshi stared at her thoughtfully for a moment. "But there is still something lacking?" he guessed.

She grinned. "Did you really expect to become a master after an hour of meditating?"

She had a point. Aoshi nodded and flipped the pad to a close. "I suppose you are correct. I will continue to work on it, then."

"Good. The more you practice, the more you realize what you can do." Stifling another yawn, Misao hopped off the trunk and dusted her clothes off. "Come on, let's go back. I'm probably late meeting up with Kaoru and she said she would kill me if I kept her waiting one more time."

Putting his pencil away, Aoshi jumped down lightly and slid the case back into his pocket. Picking up his sketchpad, he nodded. "Proceed."

Rolling her eyes at his formal word, Misao plunged back onto the path and started at a brisk pace. "You should learn to relax more often, Aoshi. It might even help you with your project. Painting when tense never produced any great works of art."

"I will remember that," Aoshi said dryly. After a moment, he asked, "Where did you get my cell phone number?" Not even Misao, with her skills at prying all sorts of information from people, could have gotten a hold of it unless someone had specifically given it to her.

Misao glanced back at him briefly before turning her attention back to the path. "From Himura," she said noncommittally.

Himura? His rival and sometimes friend? "Where did Himura get my number?"

"Probably from Hannya."

Aoshi frowned. "Why would Hannya give my phone number to Himura? And why would Himura give my number to you?"

Misao shrugged, trying to keep her voice light. "Hannya knew that if anything ever happened, Himura would be the best person to call. And I got Kaoru to ask him to give it to me. That boy is so whipped he would lick dirt if she asked him to."

This did not please Aoshi. Why would his best friend give Himura his number, just in case? What could happen that Himura would have to call Aoshi? "I don't understand," he said flatly.

Misao exhaled noisily, having known it would be asking too much for Aoshi to simply accept her words. She remained silent for a moment before finally speaking. "Okay, let me see if I got this story straight. Do you remember about four years ago when Hannya and your other friends got attacked by that crazy Takeda guy?"

Aoshi nodded. Of course he remembered; his four good friends had almost died that night because Takeda wanted revenge against Aoshi for outscoring him on a test or something equally trivial. It was also one of the impetuses that had caused him to snap at Misao the way he did in the following days.

"Well, apparently Hannya guessed something was up so he gave your number to Himura just in case someone needed to contact you. Or maybe to keep tabs on you just to make sure you wouldn't do something stupid. Anyway, Himura kept it all this time and Kaoru, being my adoring best friend, asked him for it and gave it to me." Misao flashed him a smile. "Simple, huh?"

He ignored the comment. "Why did you call me?"

Misao's cerulean eyes dimmed a bit and she didn't say anything for a long moment. Aoshi realized they had reached the edge of the forest with his dormitory just ahead. She stepped out onto the grass before turning around to face him. "I wanted to help you with your project. This little jaunt really was to get you to relax and see the forest from the inside out. But also …" She took a deep breath, looking away from him. "I also wanted to apologize for my behavior back when we were in undergraduate school. It was abominable and I'm so ashamed that I was such a _nuisance_."

Aoshi's heart lurched at the apology. He had never dreamed Misao would feel guilty about being his stalker when he should be the one asking for her forgiveness. No matter what she did, it didn't warrant his harsh words to her. "Misao, there is no need to say anything," he said quietly. "I admit, your focused attention was a little disconcerting, but I shouldn't have taken my frustration and anger out on you that day. I was at fault. Forgive me for losing my temper and for not having the courage to say so four years ago."

Misao looked back at him, her eyes bright with watery tears. "I was stupid and foolish and forgot just how overwhelming I can be in large doses. I really am sorry!" Without warning, she flung her arms around him and buried her face in his shirt.

Surprised by the move, Aoshi stumbled back a step and stared down at the dark head crying silently and soaking his clothes. Four years of buried guilt surged to the forefront, shaming him for not being brave enough to apologize, for causing so much grief on Misao's part, and for letting her apologize first. What kind of man was he that he couldn't find the courage to admit his own mistake and to make a woman cry this much?

Slowly, hesitantly, Aoshi awkwardly patted Misao on the back. "Please stop, Misao. We both were young and immature and made mistakes. All we can do now is to learn from them."

She lifted her head and, like a child, wiped her tears away with an arm, offering him a tremulous smile. "You're right. But I also wanted to say something else. Thanks to you, Aoshi, I realized just how stupid I was in wasting my time chasing after you. After that er … incident, I focused on art and realized just how much I loved it. So now I'm doing something I've always wanted to do and moving on."

Aoshi hid a wince at her words; it didn't help a man's ego when he was considered a 'waste of time'. Still, he was happy that Misao found her calling. "I'm glad," he said simply.

Misao beamed at him and disentangled herself from his body. "I'm glad we could clear the air," she said softly. "Maybe we can be friends again if I promise you I won't stalk you anymore."

He considered that for a moment and realized he didn't mind at all. It would be nice to have another friend, and there was something irrepressible about Misao that even he couldn't resist. "Aa, friends," he agreed.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Misao called him three times to drag him out in search of other spots to meditate and draw. She chose different places every time; once on a hill overlooking the center of campus, another time right in front of the sundial itself, and yet another time in the middle of a dormitory lounge. Each time they met, Misao instructed him to meditate before attempting to draw whatever came to mind. The different environment would stimulate his brain in different ways, she explained. 

And true enough, Aoshi found it easier and easier for a rough sketch to emerge from his pencil. Instead of thinking it through, he began to let his mind wander and focus on whatever it wanted to and not forcing it to adhere to the rigid picture in his head. He even began to use some techniques Professor Tsukioka had demonstrated in class, allowing a freer rein on his imagination.

Still, even Aoshi could tell there was still something lacking in his art. Misao always provided helpful and encouraging comments and never said anything but Aoshi knew.

It was driving him crazy.

Aoshi had been a little worried that meeting with Misao and working on this project would detract from his other studies. However, when he found his grades keeping steady despite less time studying, he figured he had unconsciously found a way to adjust his schedule to accommodate the new situation.

In the meantime, he was finding that he actually enjoyed being in Misao's presence. She was upbeat and warm and not as overbearing as he once remembered her as. They even had a few similar interests like martial arts which resulted in thorough discussions. Although Misao demonstrated frightening knowledge and remembrances of his likes and dislikes, Aoshi found himself learning things about Misao he had never known, or ever bothered to know.

"You seem to have found yourself a new best friend, Aoshi, since I haven't heard from you in nearly a month," Hannya teased him one day as they met off campus for lunch. After placing their order, they sat down outside to wait. They rarely saw each other now since Hannya had elected to join the military once he had finished his undergraduate studies. He was now stationed near Mount Fiji and only came home occasionally when he had leave.

"No more than you have," Aoshi countered. "What's this I hear about someone named Maeko?"

Hannya blushed faintly. Aoshi watched his friend, unduly fascinated. Takeda had disfigured Hannya's face to the point where the man had refused to leave his home without a mask from shame. But now, four years later and no doubt due to the influences of one Hiraga Maeko, he had finally gotten rid of the porcelain cover and revealed his scars to the world. It was a relief to see Hannya finally recovering from the horrid ordeal. "It's nothing," he mumbled. "But I'm thinking maybe she can make a respectful man out of me."

Aoshi nodded; he had suspected as much. "I'd like to meet her one day and make sure she's good enough for you. Have you see Hyottoko, Beshimi, and Shikijou lately?"

"Aa. I'm sure you know Hyottoko is still working for his uncle in Hokkaido. Beshimi is still in training for the air force, and Shikijou is helping the government build ships in Kyoto. They all offer you greetings and wished they could have come themselves but their schedules wouldn't allow it."

"I understand. Once school is finished, I was planning to take time to visit you all. It's been far too long since we last met face to face."

"Still at the top of your class, I assume? And how's your Creative Arts class? I know you said your professor assigned a tutor to you."

Aoshi nodded again. "Aa. It's Makimachi Misao."

Hannya blinked several times in astonishment. "Misao?" He began to laugh. "It's fate, Aoshi. What went around has come around."

"So it seems."

Stopping his laughter abruptly, Hannya eyed his friend. "And how is that going?" He had made it clear four years ago that he disapproved of Aoshi's handling of the situation despite understanding his friend's reaction. Privately, he thought the genki Misao was rather good for Aoshi, who was much too serious.

"Do not worry. We spoke of the situation and agreed to move on from it. She has been trying to help me with my art with relative success."

"I see. Is that why I didn't even receive an email from you until last week?" Hannya teased, pleased the matter was finally laid to rest.

Aoshi blushed faintly. "Forgive me. I am still lacking something in my art and I'm certain Misao knows what it is but she refuses to tell me. I have been drawing during my free time and I still cannot figure it out."

Hannya smiled, imagining Aoshi's frustration at not being able to figure out what was wrong. Book smarts had always come easily to the highly intelligent Aoshi and he could picture just how much it was driving him crazy not to know. "I understand. I know you put off taking the class for this very reason."

"That is why I stuck with architecture as my major instead of art," Aoshi said dryly.

"Hmm." Looking slightly distracted, Hannya stared off behind Aoshi for a moment before suddenly saying, "Isn't that Misao right now? She's with Himura Kenshin and his girlfriend."

Aoshi raised a brow and twisted his body around to see Misao chatting gaily with Kaoru as the two women all but skipped along with linked arms. Kenshin was behind them, looking world-weary and holding a shopping back in each hand. "So it is," he commented neutrally. His mind briefly wondered if Misao had been stalking him and used her friends as a cover-up. But the thought vanished as quickly as it had come; Misao hadn't exhibited any other signs of following him and she had promised not to do so. Despite his usual skeptical nature, Aoshi believed her.

No, he _wanted_ to believe her.

Perturbed by that disturbing thought, he didn't realize Hannya was waving his hand to flag the trio down. Kenshin spotted them first and a look of abject relief crossed his face. He spoke to the two women in front of him before veering off to the table.

"Hannya! I didn't know you were back in town!" Himura greeted them, dropping the two bags by his feet. "Are you staying long?"

"I just got back yesterday night," Hannya said cheerfully. "And I'll be here for about a week."

"Welcome back, then." Himura turned to Aoshi and offered him a cool nod. "Shinomori."

"Himura," Aoshi said, matching his tone.

"Hannya!" came the glad shout. Misao bounded up to him and gave him a hug as if they were long-lost friends. "How are you? I haven't seen in you ages! Hey, you took your mask off, finally. Awesome!"

"Hello there, Misao," Hannya said with a laugh. He didn't seem bothered by the mention of his mask. "It's good to see you, too. But perhaps my eyes are deceiving me or have you gotten _shorter_ since I last remember?"

"Hey!" she pouted.

"Growing shorter but all the more energetic," Kaoru said wryly, approaching them at a more sedate place. "Hello, Hannya, Aoshi."

"Aoshi?" Blinking, Misao unwound her arms from Hannya and looked at the other seated man at the table. "Hey, I didn't see you there!"

"Obviously," Aoshi said dryly. For some reason, her overlooking his presence annoyed him.

"I guess you two are having lunch, huh? Too bad we already ate," Misao went on obliviously. "Oh, well, maybe some other time."

"Yeah, we're going to be late meeting up with Sano and Megumi," Kaoru said. "We'll see you two later!"

Kenshin sighed, looking wistfully at the spare chair before bending down to pick up the bags. "Let's go," he groaned.

"I didn't know you were so close to Himura and his friends," Aoshi commented as the women left, dragging Kenshin along. He remembered what Misao had said about Hannya giving Himura his cell phone number and eyed his companion.

"When you weren't sitting with us at the hospital or at home, Kenshin, Misao, Kaoru, and Sanosuke stopped by often to check up on us. And Miss Megumi was the resident in the hospital for our care," Hannya said off-handedly. "Misao especially seemed very concerned about how this whole ordeal affected you as well. She knew that you would blame yourself for Takeda's actions." He paused and before adding gently, "While in the hospital, I asked her to watch over you and make sure you wouldn't run yourself ragged or do something otherwise stupid."

Aoshi stared at his friend for a long moment. Was that why Misao had been more aggressive in spending time together? "You did?"

"Aa. We all did."

Silence reigned until Aoshi finally said, "I see." Now he felt even more like a heel for yelling at Misao when she had been only trying to help.

"I only tell you this because I want you to realize that she wasn't acting just on her own impulses. She really cared deeply for you, Aoshi." Hannya sighed then smiled. "But I'm glad you two are friends again, at least. Hmm, I wonder where our food is. It's been at least fifteen minutes. I'll go check with the manager."

That suited Aoshi just fine. Apparently, he had a lot to re-think over.

* * *

_AN: Many thanks to _**Laegdin**_ who kindly beta-ed this story (among others). The last part should be up soon. In the meantime, feel free to stop by my profile to see what's going to be updated next!_


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